


The Long Pour Into Broken Waters

by elistaire, templemarker



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Community: pod-together, Gen, Podfic, Swimming, Swimming Pool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-29
Updated: 2012-07-29
Packaged: 2017-11-10 23:21:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/471859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elistaire/pseuds/elistaire, https://archiveofourown.org/users/templemarker/pseuds/templemarker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hank loves swimming.   </p><p>This is his life as he swims (and doesn't swim) through it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Long Pour Into Broken Waters

**Author's Note:**

> Author: elistaire
> 
> Podficcer: Templemarker

[MP3](http://pod-together.parakaproductions.com/2012/XMFC-The%20Long%20Pour%20Into%20Broken%20Waters.mp3)

  
[M4B](http://pod-together.parakaproductions.com/2012/XMFC-The%20Long%20Pour%20Into%20Broken%20Waters%20by%20elistaire,%20templemarker.m4b)

“Don’t you want to swim?” The little girl asking the question was a few years younger than Hank, who, at the grand age of thirteen, hated his body more than most boys did. At puberty, it was natural to start disliking the changes, but Hank had more changes than most. 

“No,” Hank replied, eyeing the water. He really did want to swim, more than anything. The sun was hot and he was sweating. Cooling off in the water sounded perfect. Last year he would have been happy to swim. Last year he didn’t have anything to hide. “I don’t like the water,” he said, and tried to keep the sullen note out of his voice. If his mom heard him, she’d force him to go in. 

The little girl shrugged. She was the younger sister of his friend, Eddie, and Hank never could remember her name. Colleen? Christine? Caroline? She took three steps and jumped feet first into the deep end with a squeal. She popped to the surface and was instantly dunked under again by her brother. 

Hank wiggled his toes inside his socks and sneakers, and hated his feet. It just wasn’t fair! 

His gaze fell on a discarded pair of swim fins and his heart gave a little leap. They were the sort that buckled around the ankle while the foot was inserted—and hidden—in the front. He quickly collected them and scooted back behind the pool chairs. With a now practiced subterfuge, he slipped his shoes and socks off, and pulled the flippers on. 

Anticipation growing in his gut, he carefully high-knee walked over to the edge of the pool. He jumped in, and the water was cool against his skin. The noise of the world cut away as he fell below the surface, and he enjoyed the sensation of slowly dropping to the bottom of the pool. He gave a kick with the fins and breached the surface, pulling in a lungful of air. 

“Hank!” Eddie called, and Hank turned to face him, only to get a face full of water. 

He laughed and heaved a hand through the water to splash back at Eddie. An intense water-fight ensued. Eddie’s sister and her friends screamed and swam away. Hank gave as good as he got, and Eddie frantically leaned back and deployed his most powerful weapon—the splash from his kick. Hank had to duck under the water and swim backwards to avoid breathing in a lungful of water. 

When he broke the surface he heard the shrill whistle of a lifeguard. He turned to the sound. 

“You can’t wear those in the pool during free swim,” the lifeguard said, looking down sternly from her perch. “Take them off, or get out.”

Hank could feel his face grow warm. He stayed low in the water, and it felt even colder against his hot face than it had when he’d first jumped in. He swam to the side and clambered out. Then he duck-walked back to the pool chairs where his family’s stuff had been left. He discarded the fins and replaced his socks and sneakers. Then he sat with his back against the chain link fence that surrounded the pool area, and stared at his friends in the pool. 

Eddie’s sister saw him watching and stuck her tongue out at him. 

Hank just hated his feet even more. 

~~~ 

The CIA compound had its own swimming pool. It was Olympic length and usually had a bulkhead set up in the middle so that there were actually two pools of regular length. With his key card, he could access the pool at any hour of the day, or night. Hank found that if he went at odd times, that the chances of other people being there were greatly diminished, and there were a few hours in the middle of the night when nobody was ever there. He went swimming then. 

Hank was not a very proficient swimmer. He’d avoided swimming in public for years, so he’d only had the rare dip in a secluded spot, or when he’d been able to wear flippers to hide his feet. But he loved swimming. The water covered him so that all he could hear was the swoosh, swoosh of the water past his ears, and the peculiar bubbling sound of his own breath escaping toward the surface. He could swim and think. 

He thought about everything when he swam, trying to practice his stroke, which was always labored and ineffective. He needed someone else to observe his technique and make recommendations, but there was no one he could trust. So, instead, he tried to improve on his own, and while he did laborious laps, he let his mind wander. 

He thought about conductors, and resistors, and how interesting it was that electricity moved backwards. He thought about the sidewalls of tires, and, if force equals mass times acceleration, how much pressure could be applied, and what if he changed the material, and therefore the co-efficient of friction of those tires. He thought about pulleys and fulcrums, and Laurel and Hardy trying to bring a piano up a ridiculous amount of stairs, and what he could have designed to ease that task. Of course, he reasoned, that wouldn’t have made very effective comedy, but perhaps piano movers everywhere would thank him. 

Mostly he thought about being alone. 

He was, after all, swimming alone in the middle of the night. It was best to keep his dreams fixed firmly on engineering. At least it had applicable rules and regulations, unlike friends, and unlike women. 

~~~ 

He kept up his old habit, of swimming late at night, even during that short time at Charles’ palatial home. The pool at the house was like a strange grotto, situated low and rear. There were large pane glass windows that Hank suspected could be removed to allow an open air view of the sky. Perhaps servants once prepared it in the late spring and then put the panes up again when fall turned cold, but now the windows were dirty and streaked with grime. There was an unsettling inky darkness outside. 

It was not really a lane pool, but it was enough to do short laps, and Hank enjoyed every stolen minute that he had in the water. 

He didn’t have anything to be worried about here. The others were all mutants as well, though Alex made bitter comments that grated against every nerve in Hank’s body. Sean wasn’t great company, and Hank couldn’t imagine inviting Erik down to swim. He thought about Raven, and the possibilities there. She could probably even mimic a mermaid for him. Now that was a fantasy worth indulging in.

But Hank now enjoyed the solitude of swimming alone. He thought about Raven’s leukocytes, Sean’s wings, and how he would need to design Alex’s focus-modulator. He also thought long and hard about the serum he was developing. What it would be like to go to the beach. It would be a warm, sunny day, and there’d be children playing nearby, and women sunbathing. He could go to the edge of the water, where the sand was hardened, and run through the foam in his bare feet. No one would even look twice. 

Once, Charles came down to the grotto pool, just as Hank was finished with his swim. He had the look of a man who’d not had enough alcohol to tip him over, but certainly enough to make his thoughts run wild in his head. Charles just sat down on the edge of the water, rolled up his pant legs, and dangled his feet in. “Marvelous,” he said. “Do you swim as fast as you run?”

“Not really, no,” Hank replied. His technique had never really developed. “But I’ve got a good kick.” He hadn’t ever actually needed the flippers, except to hide his feet. He could kick harder and stronger without them. 

“That’s brilliant,” Charles said. He looked around at the space and Hank noticed that the pool reflected shimmering lights on the curved ceiling. “I learned to swim down here,” Charles continued. “Raven did as well. Just the two of us.”

“I don’t mind swimming alone,” Hank said. 

Charles smiled, but it was faint and faded in the low-lighting of the pool. “I don’t mind it either,” he said. “But I much prefer company.” 

“Oh--” Hank started to speak, but Charles scooped a large amount of water in one hand and flung it at Hank. His small smile had grown into a dazzling, mirthful grin. Hank went for retribution, and grabbed one of Charles’ ankles and hauled him in, clothes on and all. Charles came up sputtering and laughing. He splashed again at Hank, who gave a return salvo, and then Charles started stripping his wet clothes off. He kept on his underwear, and left the rest in a sodden heap at the edge of the pool. As he undressed, he said, “The pool echoes, so a game of Blind Man’s Bluff can be quite challenging.” 

“Game?” Hank repeated. 

Charles tapped one finger to his temple, and Hank wondered how much Charles had been prying. “Unless you want to do laps for another hour.” 

“No, I was done,” Hank said. 

“Then, let’s play.” Charles laughed and jumped forward to give a push that sent Hank down and Charles flowing backward in the water. “You’re it!” 

Hank grinned, and closed his eyes. 

~~~ 

After his transformation, Hank tried to swim once. 

Hank had watched Charles in the pool earlier in the day, getting hydro therapy for his legs, and it had just become too tempting to resist. He had snuck down in the middle of the night to the grotto, and it had felt so familiar that he’d fooled himself into thinking it would be just as it had always been. 

But it wasn’t. 

He was covered in thick, dense fur now. It was wonderfully protective stuff, as long as he remained dry. Immersing himself in the pool was not what his fur was meant for. It soaked through instantly, becoming water-logged and heavy, dragging him down. He was strong enough to swim even with the added weight, but he wasn’t designed as a water creature, that was for sure. 

He’d crawled over the side and lain on the floor, staring up at the dancing reflections of the lights off the water’s surface, and knew that he wasn’t going to be doing laps anymore. He’d tried to towel off the best he could, but his fur kept water trapped, and it took hours and hours to finally dry out. In the meantime, he’d left a wet trail of footprints behind him, from the grotto to his room. 

After that, he didn’t go near the water, unless it was absolutely necessary. 

~~~ 

Years later--several scientific discoveries, a few honorary degrees, uncounted engineering feats, and many accolades later--Hank returned once again to the Xavier Mansion. 

The halls were full of students these days. Charles had his hands full teaching them, and instructing his X-Men team on missions. Hank only had a few days of free time, in-between conferences and special assignments, but when he did, he always loved to rejuvenate his soul at the mansion. It was one of the few places where he felt at home. 

He’d been feeling his age lately. With so many friends and colleagues passing on, and trouble brewing in the political world, he was glad to have this small cocoon of tranquility to visit. He’d been so busy with meetings and agendas that he’d hardly had time to enjoy scientific pursuits. He’d missed it very much. Being on the school grounds again reminded him of his younger days, perhaps even that rare time before he’d become the beast that he was now. 

“The students appear to be doing remarkably well,” he said, letting his reminiscence fade. He was being led on a tour of the grounds by his old friend, Ororo, otherwise known as Storm. 

“They thrive here,” she agreed. “It’s a combination of being finally safe, and surrounded by others who accept them.”

“I’m sure your excellent teaching has a large part in it,” he said and smiled at her warmly. 

She smiled back. “Let me show you the renovations. Since you’ve been here last, we’ve updated the basketball court and the swimming pool.” 

She led him to the grounds behind the building proper, and Hank stood, shocked and impressed. The basketball court was very nice, of course. But the pool was enormous—Olympic sized, and even deeper than usual at one end, with three diving boards of various heights. Perfect for training those mutants with water-based abilities. “Oh,” he said, and winked at her, “my stars and garters. You’ve outdone yourself this time.”

“That’s the end of the tour,” she told him, and waved a hand at the grounds. “You can wander around, if you like. Talk to some of the students.”

“I’d be delighted,” Hank said. “Do any have particular scientific interests? I’m always looking for an intern—“

A group of several young children ran by, all in bathing suits, with towels fluttering. 

“Break time,” Ororo explained. “I often swim with the children in the afternoons. I find that it is a wonderful bonding experience. And quite fun.”

“I would expect so,” Hank agreed, watching the group of children advance upon the pool. The water was still and smooth, but would be broken up in a few moments by dozens of bodies diving in. He remembered the cool glide of diving into water, but it seemed like forever ago that he’d last done it. 

The larger children seemed to have the lead on the smaller ones, and the one toward the very front called out, “Last one in is a rotten egg!” Suddenly all of them ran with renewed vigor. “That means everyone!” cried another child from the middle of the pack. 

Hank turned to give Ororo a smirk and found that she was gone—she had started running toward the pool. 

“Storm?” he called. 

She glanced back at him, challenge in her face. She’d already stripped off her blouse and skirt to reveal a bathing suit underneath. “You’re going to be a rotten egg, Hank!”

The aqua-blue of the pool sparkled in the afternoon sunlight and Hank found something tight in his chest suddenly release. Exactly why wasn’t he swimming, after all? He had a full day before the next conference, surely his fur would dry out by then. And even if it didn’t, perhaps he should stop caring quite so much about it. “Oh, no, I’m not!” he cried, and sprang forward. He caught the two littlest, slowest children under his arms. “And we won’t be rotten eggs, either,” he told them, and was rewarded by their laughing squeals of delight. 

“Ha! Ha!” the little boy in the crook of his left elbow laughed at his friends as he was carried over them. “Who’s a rotten egg now?” 

Hank leapt into the air over the pool, and they plummeted down into the water. He kept the children at the surface. “We made it! We made it!” the two of them shouted gleefully. They squirmed out of his grasp and went paddling toward the deluge of other children leaping in. 

He sank below the water, happy to hear again the quiet sloshing against his ears, and the steady drum-beat of his heart. Hank surfaced, and decided that perhaps his fur wasn’t such a terrible impediment to swimming, really. 

Storm swam a lazy sidestroke over to him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you swim before,” she said. “I didn’t know you could.”

“I play a mean Blind Man’s Bluff, too,” Hank told her. 

She gestured to the kids. “You’d better start organizing your delegation, then, Dr. McCoy,” she teased. 

“You’ll regret it,” he warned her. 

“I hope I do,” she said with a cheeky grin, and backhanded the surface of the water, giving him a hearty splash in the face before diving under and swimming away.

Hank grinned, and dove after her, ready for revenge.


End file.
